To Agree

The horse’s face white
against the fire. The others, slow-moving,
dark revolutionaries among the cedar. You hold
my hand and press it against a mane; brush. Teaching how to reveal
the invisible. To feel
the indescribable. And leave
all else alone.


George Dibble

George Dibble writes. He reads. georgedibble.com

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Near the Plastered Wall

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Nothing Personal II & III